


Misc MoG

by etaeternum



Series: Mother of Griffons [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Arguing, Developing Friendships, Endearments, Established Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Grey Wardens, Mild Language, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sewing, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etaeternum/pseuds/etaeternum
Summary: Collection of one-shots and prompts of the MoG crew. (Not much atm but will be adding.) If you read the series and have a prompt for me just leave a comment or find me on Tumblr @etaeternum





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a five-minute writing challenge. It is super short. I love Hale and Nate so much that I thought I'd share. I have plenty more one-shots in mind for them.

"You're doing it wrong." The scratchy grumble came from Nathaniel, standing witness to the lovely creature's attempt to sew a replacement button onto her gambeson.

She ignored him, continuing her approach to the chore. Awkward effort to drive the needle into the fabric preceded a graceless pull to complete the stitch. Unknotted thread pulled from the fabric and she pricked herself. "Fucking shite whoreson." She cursed as the button fell to the ground; her finger rose to her mouth.

"Huntress," his steady tone hid the endearing smirk that tugged his lips. She didn't look up as he addressed her. His knees bent, squatting to reach her eye level where she sat on a log.

She sucked at the tip of her finger, soothing the pain she endured. Her furious green eyes traveled to Nate, but the glare softened when she met his steady gaze.

He reached for the fallen button. "Let me show you how I was taught."


	2. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another mini prompt from another group with the quote "Here. Five silver she slaps him."  
> *Warning for language.*

"Here. Five silver says she slaps him." Gunnar snickered to his cohort. Damia and Lisbeth joined him, spying on the Warden Commander Nathaniel and their fellow soldier, Hale arguing in the training yard.

Blurting a laugh, Damia took coin from her pouch. "Ten says she slugs him right in the nose."

Known for her stoicism, Lisbeth's detailed addition to the bet came as a surprise. "They're gonna drop their bows and snog. Wouldn't put it past 'em to rut right there in the grass." She threw her contribution of money into the pot.

The trio observed, chuckling between them as the argument continued. Unable to hear the words, they watched the Commander's face turn red as he listened. One arm crossed with another holding his bow against him. The Huntress's arms illustrated her speech, exaggerated by her bow. She walked away yelling at him, then turned on her heels and came back.

Her weight shifted to one leg; a well-known signal, recognized by all, of her pending attack. The trio held their breath and intense seconds dragged. Unreadable expressions stared, communicating a message the spectators could not understand. The Huntress threw down her bow and balled her fist, then pulled back to gain momentum. A split-second later Nate's bow fell to the ground, and his arms opened, reaching out to stop her. Or grab her. Or pull her in. But as her arm swung, her hand opened. Digits extended, her palm neared his face. Nate's frame stiffened, his shoulders widened, preparing for Hale's impact.

She drove her fingers through his hair and pushed off her foot, jumping onto him. Impatient mouths collided, just before long legs wrapped around his solid frame. The Commander's hands gripped her rear, nails digging into tight leather. Faces pressing, the unabashed moment escalated, heat surging between the already fiery pair.

"Called it," Lisbeth muttered nonchalantly, reaching for the pool of money.

Gunnar and Damia pulled their eyes from their passionate colleagues, staring at each other in shock. "Maker's beard," Damia sighed.

"Maker had nothing to do with it." Lisbeth started walking back to the Keep and the other two hurried to catch up, leaving behind the display of the fervent duo. "Heard 'em bitching about how long it's been since they ploughed when I was on cleaning duties this morning."

"That was a shoddy bet, Lisbeth." Gunnar scolded through a chuckle.

"Nah," the winner dismissed him. "I'm just a better scout than both of you."


	3. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a 5 min prompt on FB! Inspired by MoG, should have a new chapter coming up in FotO any day now.

"I have to talk to you," Caoilainn said, shutting the door of the armory behind her.

Alistair removed his breastplate, unburdening himself of the last of his armor after a day of fighting. Preparation for his trip ahead, he committed more time to practice than in the past. The incident at the Arbor Wild’s had alerted him to the need, and he couldn’t afford the incident to repeat itself.

"And why should I listen?" He avoided eye contact, placing the armor in its respective location and grabbing a towel.

"Because this time I’m not lying,” she rushed her reply before she lost his attention. “My love, I swear. No secrets, no lies. I need you to stay.”

“Why would I believe you?” Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he chuckled. “Really, Caoilainn? I’ve been through this enough times to know when you’ve got another motive. What is it you really want?”

“You, Alistair, my King,” she sighed, brow furrowed. She took timid steps in his direction.

The term of respectful endearment, a reminder of their rules. He shook his head and lifted his hands, walking backward to keep his distance. “No, not ready. Not happening. I’m leaving and try as you might, there’s nothing you can do or say that’s going to change that. I’ve made up my mind.”


	4. Creature Comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel finds Hale wearing his clothes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was from a prompt on tumblr. I had a ton of fun writing it and thought I'd share here.

“I thought you said you liked wearing my shirts because they're warmer.” Searching through his pack for an extra shirt, Nathaniel commented to the Huntress. The lovely creature sat on their bedroll, sharpening stone arrowheads and putting them in a pile. His tunic draped on her small frame, hanging from her shoulders.

Nate wiped a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. The arid land of Nevarra grew warmer the further north they traveled, but Hale’s appropriation of his clothes did not diminish.

“Yea,” she paused, looked up to him and shrugged her shoulders. “They’re cooler too.”

Sighing, he dropped his pack and looked down at her. “Huntress-”

“Fuck off, Nate.” She threw down the tool she used to sharpen and stood up. Bare slender legs stretched to the ground. Hale put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I like the way they sodding smell.” Green eyes sparked with vitriolic affection; her vallaslin wrinkled with her frown. The freckles beneath her tattoo managed to soften the blow of even her most offensive scowling.

Nathaniel struggled to tame his grin. He crossed his arms over his chest. “That is all well and good, but I don’t have enough tunics as it is.”

“Fine!” Her brow creased, and her frown deepened. “Shite, here then! Keep yer fuckin’ shirt.” Hale’s fingers wrapped around the hem; she pulled the shirt off and threw it at him.

Taking the tunic from over his head, he found the Huntress standing in only her underclothes. The light mist of sweat shone on her tan skin. With open hands, she extended her arms to her sides and huffed. “Are you fuckin’ happy now?”

Nathaniel smirked, and tossed his shirt to the bed. A small step carried him closer to the caustic young woman. “I cannot say that I mind.”


End file.
